Northern Stars

by Laurence Cockcroft

  For Ruth and Joshua, it was a great relief to find they could lie on a blanket on the floor of an attic in the house and realise that the day was behind them. What was more, Shep was quiet and finally lying down beside his master. Ruth thought about her mother and wondered how she would feel if she could see her children now. Unhappy, she thought, and Just as bad as she expected. But the truth was, it might be bad, but it wasn’t so bad, and they might even be able to carry on tomorrow. She wondered why she seemed to hear footsteps on the stairs and a door open and close, but gave up trying to answer the question as she finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE ESCAPE FROM BLACK SAM

  It was the angry bark of the dogs that woke Ruth and Joshua just as light was breaking the next day. For a moment, Ruth thought it must be Shep fighting with one of Nelly’s farm dogs, but as she leaned forward and put her face to the window she could see a dozen men each handling three hunting hounds.

  ‘Josh lad, look ’ere,’ she cried, pulling her brother’s hand from the other end of the blanket. As Joshua wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked through the glass, he was terrified to see the men eyeing the farm as the hounds pulled at their leashes. They looked very like the dogs which had torn the flesh from his ankle on Langfield Common a year ago.

  Enoch, who had been sleeping on a sheepskin with Shep next to him on the floor, came up to the window to join them.

  ‘By God, that’s Jack wi’em,’ he cried, as he saw Nelly’s husband, Jack, stooped and speaking to one of the men.

  No sooner had he spoken than Nelly rushed into the room in her nightdress, hair streaming down her shoulders, shouting, ‘Get out o’ere as quick as tha’ can. Jack left in t’middle o’ neet an’ ’e’s back now wi’ Duke’s men. That’s Black Sam, Duke’s bailiff, what ’e’s talking to. They’ll be driving t’lot o’ you out wi’ them ’ounds. Quick now. Keep them close to you, Marion.’

  Nelly led Marion and the children down the stairs and across to the kitchen window to see if they could break out safely. The Duke’s men were still looking over the stone wall which surrounded the farmyard and across to the barn. About a hundred of the marchers had camped out roughly in the yard, and another fifty were in the barn. Ruth could see that Jack was still talking to Black Sam, a huge man with a dark beard who looked as if he would gladly launch his hounds on the marchers. All over the yard, men who had been lying exhausted from the previous day’s march were rising from the ground as they were wakened by the barking of the dogs. A handful of those who had been sleeping in the barn came to the door and looked out cautiously. Ruth and Joshua could see that their father and Frank Sykes were amongst them.

  Nelly, who had seen Black Sam snatch the hay from their barn, could see that all the marchers were in terrible danger. She knew that he would not hesitate to unleash the hounds when he judged the moment right, and she had a sinking feeling that it was her husband who had brought Sam back to the farm. Looking through the window with the children and Marion, she said:

  ‘We’ve got to warn ’em. Black Sam means to set his dogs on, no mistake; an’ the sooner they start running, the better. But we need time to get everyone ‘out ’o ’ere.’

  ‘’Appen we can distract ’em,’ said Marion, who had been scouring the crowd in the yard for the face of Jim Knotts.

  ‘Well, I’ll send Shep out to do ‘is tricks,’ said Enoch, ‘an’ let’s see if some of them big dogs don’t get distracted.’

  ‘Out there, lad,’ said Enoch, opening the door, as Shep scampered into the middle of the yard, sensing the danger and smelling the hounds as he ran. Two high-pitched whistles from Enoch brought him to a halt; one low-pitched whistle set him off running in circles; three sharp whistles had him sitting up begging as the marchers looked on with wonder. As Shep performed, Black Sam’s men could feel the hounds pulling ever more strongly at their leashes. Their harsh barking grew louder as their frustration at Shep’s antics reached boiling point. Suddenly one of the keepers lost control of the leash holding three of the hounds. They dashed over to Shep, who turned and ran, running through the marchers, over a stone wall on the far side of the yard and into the field beyond. Several of the other hounds sprang free and joined in the chase. Enoch quickly followed them. Nelly, seeing that the ruse had distracted at least some of the dogs, rushed out of the kitchen door shouting,

  ‘Lads, tha’s not got a moment. You’d best be off this minute or there’ll be no quarter. Jess, for tha’ childer’s sake, get them out this minute.’

  Black Sam had still not spoken, but enraged by the false trail laid for the dogs, he now shouted at the marchers:

  ‘Every one of you is trespassing on the land of the Duke of Devonshire. Give yourselves up and you’ll get a fair trial. If you walk out across this farm, these dogs’ll be on tha’ legs and at tha’ backs.’

  Jess and Frank Sykes looked at each other: they could not afford to let the march collapse here, and fail to deliver the Charter to O’Connor in Nottingham. They nodded to each other.

  ‘Run for it, lads,’ cried Frank, as he dashed from the barn doorway towards a gate in the stone wall on the south side of the yard.

  ‘Quick, over ’ere, Ruth and Joshua,’ shouted Jess as they looked warily out of the kitchen door. The two children and Marion ran over to the barn door and immediately joined Jess in following Frank out of the south gate of the yard. As they ran, most of the marchers poured out through the same gate with no more than a dozen walking diffidently towards Black Sam. The hounds were confused by the cross movements in the yard and were snarling and biting at the feet of anyone they came across. Those who stayed to give themselves up received the worst of the hounds’ bites; half of the keepers were beside themselves trying to call their dogs off. The other half were trying to call back those who were still chasing after Shep. In the confusion, most of the marchers got away from the yard and streamed over the fields southwards from the farm, towards the hills that rose up on the south side of Edale. Frank could see that the bearers of the Charter were managing to keep pace with each other.

  Holding off Black Sam

  Black Sam glowered at his men and at Jack, and at the small troop of marchers that had surrendered to him.

  ‘This ’as been a fine idea, Jack Gaunt. ’Is Grace’ll be very pleased to know that we captured a good dozen of more than two ’undred marchers. Very pleased indeed. I’m sure ’e’d not want to throw off such a loyal tenant; quite sure.’

  Black Sam’s sarcasm was beyond Jack, but he had a sinking feeling that his betrayal of the marchers would cost him dear. As Nelly came over to them, she was holding back her tears as she said to him:

  ‘Nay, Jack, I did na’ marry thee for this.’ Looking at Sam, she continued: ‘I hope you’re ’appy, Mr Sam, for what tha’s done today. Them men and childer are doing nowt but what’s right, and mean no ’arm. If thou sleep sound in tha’ bed tonight, thou’s an even worse man than I thought thee. Come in, Jack, look for no more favours from Mr Sam.’

  ‘Yes, go in,’ said Black Sam. ‘I’ll come and attend to thee next week, Gaunt. The rest of you’ll be taken to Matlock to wait the magistrates’ pleasure.’ Saying this, he strode back to a horse held behind the wall, mounted and cantered off down the valley.

  ***

  Running and staggering as best they could through the fields to the south side of the barn, the marchers eventually arrived at the River Noe, which was too deep to cross. At the point where they came up against the riverbank, they were spread out over a good quarter of a mile, searching desperately for a means to cross. Suddenly they heard barking in a thicket on the other side of the river: in seconds, Enoch and Shep emerged through the trees, as the four hounds who were still chasing them responded to their keepers’ calls.

  Enoch ran over to the bank on his side of the river, saying:

  ‘It’s that way. The crossing’s that way. Two fields up, there
are some logs across river and tha’ll get across right enough.’

  Jess Midgeley, with Ruth and Joshua close behind, was one of the last to arrive at the bank of the river. Looking for Frank Sykes amongst the marchers, he caught up with him pressing along the river towards the crossing which Enoch had found.

  ‘This is a right mess, Frank,’ he said. ‘We’re going to look a right ’appy crowd now as we march south.’

  ‘Aye, and t’lads’ll be wanting to turn back, Charter or no Charter.’

  ‘Well, where is t’Charter, after this mauling?’ said Jess.

  They looked back amongst the crowd strung out along the riverbank. Frank could just make out Alan and Jebb, the two Oldham men who had been carrying the Charter on the previous day, and who had managed to drag it out of the barn whenthe dogs attacked. As he and Jess waited for them to catch up, he could see that they were both limping badly and were in no fit state to carry the additional burden.

  ‘Ah see dogs got you then, lads,’ said Frank. ‘Is it bad then?’

  ‘Aye, damn them. Ah can scarce walk, never mind carry t’Charter,’ said Jebb.

  ‘We’ll ’ave to give it to someone else,’ said Frank. ‘Would one of your lot carry it, Jess?’

  ‘Well, we can’t ask Judd Ackroyd. ‘Is ’ammer is that ’eavy – and we may need it the way things is going. I’d sooner ask Eric Naylor and Jim Knotts. Eric’s small but strong enough, and we all know Jim’s a right champion,’ said Jess, knowing that Jim could hear him.

  ‘Aye, that’s right enough,’ said Jim. ‘A’ve got away clear enough from them dogs. Joshua, lad, go and find Eric and ask ’im to come up ’ere.’

  Walking back down the straggling marchers, Joshua felt this must be what a defeated army looked like. Some were holding their ankles and wrists where the dogs had drawn blood, others were visibly white and exhausted from the strain of the previous day: all were hungry, and few greeted him with a smile. He found Eric Naylor amongst those who were furthest downstream from the crossing, looking despondently at the river.

  ‘Eric, me dad’s axing if tha’d carry Charter wi’ Jim Knotts. Them Oldham lads ’as been bitten by t’dogs ’n’ it’s too ’eavy for ’em now.’

  Taken aback, Eric said:

  ‘Me, lad? Why me? Aren’t they afraid I’d drop it in t’river or fall of a cliff wi’ it?’

  ‘No, it’s you they want,’ said Joshua, who was clear about his instructions.

  ‘Well, if they’re that serious, I’d better do it, lad,’ said Eric. ‘Let’s get up to t’front then.’

  Eric and Joshua rejoined Jess Midgeley and Frank Sykes at the river crossing, which was no more than three stout logs laid over the water. Jim Knotts was there with the Charter, sitting down alongside the weakened team from Oldham.

  ‘There you are,’ said Jim, looking doubtfully at Eric.

  ‘Yes. I’m here right enough and ready to go, even wi’ thee at t’other end of t’pole,’ said Eric, smiling at Jim.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Jess. ‘Frank, let’s get these lads on to t’other side and get on t’way to Nottingham. There’s some as need a doctor even more than they need bread and ale.’

  Over the next quarter of an hour, all the marchers crossed the stream and regrouped in the field beyond. Frank Sykes mustered enough energy to make a short speech castigating the keepers and traitors such as Jack Gaunt, but praising Nelly for her kindness. He said that Nelly had told Marion Rowley the previous night the rough direction of the route to Miller’s Dale, the next valley to the south, and that Jim Knotts knew the way from Miller’s Dale to Matlock for he’d worked at a mill in those parts.

  ***

  The rest of that day and the next one were agony for the marchers. With almost no food left, they trudged across rough country to Miller’s Dale, leaving the dark millstone grit rocks and stone walls of the Pennines for the white limestone of northern Derbyshire. They passed a few isolated limestone quarries on the hills and skirted villages nestling in the valleys, afraid now that their presence would make enemies rather than attract support.

  In the long winding valley of Miller’s Dale, they had felt the protection of the steep walls of the valley which seemed to shut out the dangers of the march and gave them seclusion amidst its dense woodland. In one hamlet close to the river, the owner of the public house had given them five giant Derbyshire cheeses which, divided up, became their first meal for more than a day. That night, they had slept in the woods and pressed on early next morning with Jim Knotts as guide, skirting past the Cressbrook mill where Jim had worked as a child-winder. Looking up at the cold but handsome building, Jim had contemplated ringing the mill bell and bringing all hands out to hear a call to strike and join the march. But Frank and Jess had talked him out of it in case it led to further harassment by millowners, landlords or magistrates. Their task now was simply to get the Charter to Nottingham, where they were to meet the other group of marchers.

  It was a good half-day from Cressbrook to Matlock where there was a strong Chartist group. O’Connor had passed on the address of their leader, Alexander Tayburn, to Frank Sykes. Frank and Jess were praying that Tayburn would be able to provide them with a safe place to sleep and something to fill the marchers’ stomachs. Jess went ahead into the town with Jim Knotts to search for Tayburn’s house, found him easily enough and had been shown to a Sunday School building which belonged to a Methodist congregation, amongst whom there were many strong Chartists.

  The school – where classes were given to more than three hundred children on Sundays – was big enough to accommodate all the marchers for a night. Members of the Methodist congregation had made soup in the evening and porridge in the morning, and given the marchers the strength to continue for one more day for the forty miles to Nottingham. Two doctors, who were members of the congregation, had been able to tend to the wounds inflicted by the dogs, but they had advised six of the marchers to stay behind under their care.

  At night, the marchers had held intense discussions with the Matlock Chartists on whether Parliament would ever allow the vote to the common man who had failed to win it in the Reform Bill of 1832. The riots which had led up to the Reform Bill had raged over the north, and Matlock had been no exception. Alexander Tayburn’s son argued that this was the last year for the Charter: failure this year would lead to much more serious rioting and arson next year. But the evening had ended on a note of harmony as Marion had found the strength to sing the Chartists’ hymn, ‘Britannia’s Sons, Though Slaves Ye Be’, and there had been more than two hundred in the room to join in the chorus.

  It was when both the arguments and the singing were over, and exhaustion had settled over most of the marchers sleeping on the Sunday School floor, that Enoch had risen from the floor, taken Shep in his arms, and quietly made for the door. Ruth had been thinking too hard to sleep easily and had just caught a glance of him as he began to open the door. Getting up herself, she woke Joshua, who followed her to the door. No sooner had Enoch and Shep stepped outside than they found Ruth and Joshua beside them.

  ‘Enoch, what are you doing?’ said Ruth.

  ‘I’m off. A’ve got thee to Matlock. What more do tha’ want?’ said Enoch.

  ‘But tha’ can’t leave now,’ said Joshua. ‘Tha’s part of us, part o’ t’march.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Ruth, ‘we want Shep at Parliament to bark at them members and tell ’um summut.’

  ‘Nay, that’s thy dad’s business, and Mr Sykes. That’s not for me and Shep. We just wants us grass and us sheep, lad, don’t we?’

  ‘So we won’t see you again, Enoch?’ said Ruth, realising he was serious.

  ‘An’ we won’t see Shep?’ said Joshua.

  ‘An’ you’ll not say goodbye to me dad?’ added Ruth in wonder.

  ‘No, I’ll not,’ said Enoch. ‘Not that I won’t say you’re a good lass, and your brother’s a
good ’un too, but Shep and me are not one for farewells, so we’ll be off. Come, boy, come.’

  ‘Well, give us thy ’and at least,’ said Ruth, stretching out her own. Enoch looked surprised but took it and found the squeeze she gave it pleasant enough, before he took Joshua’s more roughly and dropped it before turning and walking down the steps.

  ‘Shall we really never see ’im again?’ Joshua asked Ruth as they turned back into the Sunday School.

  ‘Well, it won’t be on this march, anyroad,’ said Ruth. ‘I could sleep standing up, ’am that tired. Let’s think about it in t’morning.’

  ***

  The porridge that had filled their bellies the next morning, and the brightness of the day, had done much to put thoughts of Enoch and Shep out of the minds of Ruth and Joshua. Their father and even Marion had seemed much less surprised than they had been; perhaps they had earmarked Enoch as a loner, and perhaps too they were glad not to have the responsibility of taking him through the uncertainties of Nottingham and London. But they knew they would never have got over Kinder Scout without him.

  The journey from Matlock to Nottingham was over a fairly straight turnpike road where horse-drawn vehicles paid a toll, but pedestrians were free. It was a sunny day, and the speed of the march had picked up as they left the valleys of Derbyshire and came into the flatter country of Nottinghamshire. Although all the marchers were feeling weaker than when they left Manchester, and some with bandages were still hobbling from the attack by Black Sam’s hounds, they knew that the arrival at Nottingham would be at least halfway to their goal.